


Mimic

by mystery_deer



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: FTM Sherlock Holmes, John is only in there a little bit, No Incest, Other, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Mycroft, Trans Sherlock, and by "relationship" I mean a sibling relationship you demons, bc gross, mtf mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: I was requested on my tumblr to write MTF Mycroft and FTM Sherlock helping each other pass and I ran with it just a little bit.Snippets from their lives with no actual plot.





	Mimic

Ever since Sherlock was born he’d been fascinated by people. When Mycroft was a baby she would frown and fuss, stiffening and going limp when held. Everytime it was brought up she felt as if she was being blamed for something.  
Sherlock was quite the opposite, he squealed and laughed and craved attention so much that one night he kept his mother up until sunrise, crying if she set him down for even a moment. Everytime it was brought up he felt as if he were being blamed for something.

There were a series of home videos of them, Sherlock a toddler and Mycroft a young child. Sherlock would tug at Mycroft’s hair and clothing, going “Play!! Playw’me play play!!” and Mycroft would pretend to read, ignoring him. He was thoroughly uninteresting until he learned to speak, not just repeat.  
______________  
“Do you think mummy and dad would let me go to an all boy’s school?” They were at the breakfast table alone, the morning shift maid whizzing back and forth. Mycroft waited for her cereal to soak.  
“Probably not. I don’t think we have enough money for them to get you into a school filled with boys.”  
“Maybe you could go and then we could switch places!”  
“We look nothing alike.” She snapped, dread pitting in her stomach at the thought of being shipped off somewhere like that. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
“We’ll wear disguises, duh.”  
______________  
A month later Mycroft convinced her parents to let her dropout of public school. “It’s too loud, it’s too noisy and it’s filled with people I don’t like. No one likes me there, I’m miserable every day and besides it’s not even challenging, I think I would be much more suited to homeschooling. You wouldn’t have to pay for education, just tutors and I’m sure they’re cheaper. I did my research, I can recommend a few-” An hour later she was in her room, smiling at the ceiling. No more locker rooms, no more bathroom breaks, no more idiotic hazings or brutes calling her names.  
She offered to get Sherlock out of public school as well but he insisted that he’d rather stay. “I like it there.” He said. “I don’t mind the work but the people…” he looked out the window, into the forest that surrounded their home. “I’d be so lonely here.”  
______________  
One day Sherlock burst into Mycroft’s room, wide eyed and grinning. She sat him down and began tending to his minor wounds and picking branches out of his hair as he spoke excitedly. “Today I learned something new!!!” He said. “One of the boys from school said my short hair made me look like a lesbian.” Mycroft hummed a short note of recognition.  
“You know the word lesbian.”  
“Yeah but then I was li- I said, ‘I’m not a lesbian I like boys.’ and he told me that if I wasn’t a lesbian I was tranny then.” Mycroft paused.  
“What was this boy’s name again?”  
“Quincy Adams. So I kicked him in the shin and he started chasing me but he couldn’t run very fast so I hid up a tree until he left.” He turned and stared into his sister’s eyes. “I think I’m a-”  
“That’s a bad word.” She chastised preemptively. She thought of the collection of barrettes hidden under a floorboard she’d ripped up under her bed and the dusty old dress she’d hidden in the attic. She felt as if she was being blamed for something. “If you’re a boy then you’re transgender.”  
______________  
Soon after Sherlock began asking Mycroft questions. “How do boys walk? What do boys talk to each other about? Why do boys wear such baggy pants? Why don’t you wear baggy pants? Where can you buy baggy pants?” Mycroft did her best to answer them. Even their mother noticed after awhile, stating in her dangerous half-joking way that he was  
“Getting a bit boy crazy aren’t you?” They were careful not to ask questions in front of their mother from then on.  
______________  
“No Myc-”  
“Don’t call me that, is there even a point in changing my name if you’re just going to call me Mike?”  
“It’s not Mike it’s Myc.” Sherlock said, the only difference being in his tone. “Anyway, you’re sitting wrong. Girls don’t sit like that, people don’t like it.”  
“What if I am just incredibly butch?”  
“You are not the least bit butch. You are wearing two hundred dollar shoes.”  
______________  
“Sherlock, I have told you a million times to stop saying ‘like’.”  
“Boys say ‘like!’ I’ve heard it!”  
“It’s more of the stereotype, like valley girls. Just avoiding it will allow you to pass easier.”  
“Ugh!”  
“And don’t lower your voice so much, you sound as if you have a cold. Let’s go over your vocal exercises again-”  
______________

“So you have an older sister?” John asked, taking a break from writing God knows what. Sherlock nodded, still clued in on an experiment he was conducting. “I have one too, she used to dress me up. Put makeup on me, the whole nine yards!” He chuckled, Sherlock adjusted the focus on his microscope.  
“That must have been uncomfortable since you don’t seem to identify much with feminine dress.” the other man paused and didn’t reply. Sherlock fell back into complete focus without the distraction of chatter. 

“Is she as smart as you?” John asked later. A week later, to be exact. Sherlock wondered sometimes if he was being tested, the thought warming his heart.  
“Smarter.”  
“Wow. I would never admit that about mine.” He readied the needle of testosterone and his voice became pleasant and sterile. “Leg please.” Sherlock stuck out his leg and waited. He remembered the day after he’d been found medically dead outside on a street he could no longer remember. He remembered Mycroft being there, looking so solid and steady amongst the flashing lights and so terrified. They were both so terrified.  
She’d been growing out her hair and was still wearing pantsuits, he told her that he wanted so badly to die to please let him die but she wouldn’t. She stayed by him and held his hand as he screamed and sobbed and shouted abuse at her, as he apologized, as he slept. The day he was released he found a prescription for testosterone on his kitchen counter.

“Well I think she deserves at least that.” John inspected Sherlock’s leg for any abnormalities before putting away his equipment. Always so careful.  
“Oh yeah? Was she a good sister?”  
“Yes.” He said, a smile tugging at his lips. “The very best.”


End file.
